Drowning in the Black Sea

Date: 1/23/2019

The sun was soft, lighting up the back wall of my bedroom through the translucent, lacy curtains that adorned my windows. I was sitting at my makeup desk, Eric (Otis’ friend from S.E.) was beside me. We were about to head over to my mother’s boyfriend’s boxing gym, they had a basement covered in red mats and old dumbbells where staff and employee’s children would hang out after or between classes. Before that though, I wanted to go visit this shopping center on the wealthier side of our county. There was this shop there that I had only ever visited once and that belonged to the same line as Forever 21. It was sort of like an Urban Outfitters crossed with Katy Perry’s “Teenage Dream” era. “Eric, tone down on the makeup, the people there... they aren’t too open about that sort of stuff.” I warned him, wrapping up my belongings. He sighed, swirling around in my father’s old desk chair. It was dirtied with blue and white paint and the black cloth layer that wrapped the seat up was all frayed and patchy. Lea calls us down to the car — we leap up and I smile at Eric, attempting to reassure his concerns. He’s back to wearing his simple grunge outfit, I bite my lip. This was what he wore whenever he felt repressed. A time skip occurs. We park in this huge parking lot. A single store in the shopping center appears to be larger than even the White House. There are neon yellow and pink lights that frame the shining white name of the store — “Forever 22 X” or something of the sort. The walls are nearly all glass except for the exceptional white borders. We head inside, I can’t even see the ceiling, moms and their daughters that look like they’re from posh Connecticut homes strut around. Bubbly, pink pop music is playing — there are a bunch of neon clothing, everything matches the store’s exterior color theme. We are about to head out of the shop — Eric has disappeared but Lea and my mother are still there, as complaintive as ever. I begin to follow them, my feet clashing against the smooth white tile flooring of the store but I stop abruptly in my tracks when I notice a bunch of cute Japanese styled stationary packed in a dent in a huge white pillar. I call Lea over and we fawn over each accessory before mother returns to drag us out — she can’t stand the preppy, rich-kid bubblegum atmosphere. We are close to the doors when a sleek, matte black car pulls up beside us in the store. I stare at it in awe, I didn’t even bother questioning why this car was there instead of in the parking lot. There seemed to be doors accommodated for this sort of pass-through though. A boy who seemed to be in his late-teens turned towards the passenger window and gave me a sly smirk with a Lorenzo Zurzolo sort of dark stare. He actually looked like he could’ve been a relative to Lorenzo — they had the same skin complex, freckle and shaggy auburn hair and dark, alluring eyebrows. The only difference was the head shape and (probably) age. He was driving the car while his old mother leaned back in the passenger seat. Another time skip occurs. Lea and mother begin to jog down this dirt path that’s neatly lined with pine trees. I decide to walk because I can’t be bothered to work out, I’m a sluggish and lazy little human being. “I’ll just catch up with you guys at the bridge.” I call out to them, kicking a stone on the way. The trail takes some time to finish but once we all reached the bridge, the black car shows up again. This time the guy stares more directly and intensely into my eyes, he’s really cute and I begin to feel flustered. Only a sheet of tinted glass separates us from one another. I’d fallen for a complete stranger and all because of his charming looks and apparent social status — how shallow. Lea and mother begin running down the bridge as the car rolls away. I’m afraid, the bridge is made entirely of that unbalanced wood only attached by a mere string that has nearly vanished with time. I wrap my slender fingers tightly around my phone. The case is shit though and keeps slipping off. Lea and mother tell me to not worry about my phone, because I wouldn’t fall and it’d be unnecessary to even risk falling all because I was paying more attention to my phone than the actual trip. I shake my head frantically, attempting to find balance across the bridge but I slip and fall, screaming, bubbling black waters beneath me. My legs are already dipped in it, they feel all pruned up. Another jogger comes by to help me, my phone is slipping out of its thin rubber casing once again but I manage to catch it, still holding onto the bridge for dear life with my open arm. The jogger calls a Water Rescue service which honestly was really stupid because she proceeded to pull me up right afterward, disgusted by the “oyster juice” (?) that covered my feet. I was surprised to see that my feet weren’t pruned up but swollen. The Black Sea is known for the large amount of salt it contains. Well, in the dream world it is. It’s salinity levels are even greater than that of the Dead Sea. In reality this is not the case though. Anyway the dream ends where the other jogger tells me to go to the Water Resource Service Center to get my injuries checked out and my mind pans back to me thrashing in the water, helplessly crying while I’m slowly slipping under.